Then Somebody Bends
by theSilverVampire
Summary: Dramione as Beauty and the Beast. Set during Year 7. Starts on 26 July, 1997.
1. Chapter 1: Held In This Empty Place

Chapter 1: Held In This Empty Place

Hermione sighed at the sight she had hoped never to look upon again. The estate loomed so greatly before her it blocked out all view of anything that might lay beyond it. Dark green hedges lined a dark stone drive leading to a dark manor house.

A brown, woolen flat cap flitted and flutter through the air and down the path as she followed closely behind. It drifted through the bars of a tall pair of wrought-iron gates at the start of the long drive leading to the manor. As Hermione drew near to the gates, they began to contort until they had transformed into a large iron face.

"State your purpose!" the face clanged, the sound echoing across the drive.

Hermione froze and began to weigh her options. She could try to find another way onto the grounds, but that, she knew, would take a lot of time, time she did not have, and prove to be all but impossible. She could lie, but the gates would only respond to an answer full of conviction. Therefore, a lie would be but a waste of breath. Or, finally, she could tell the truth.

The truth, of course, would probably alert every wizard on the property to her presence. Hermione checked her watch and found the small 26 a few millimeters from the silver horizontal line that marked the third hour. The 26th of July. Saturday. The day the order planned to move Harry Potter from Privet Drive to the Burrow. Many Death Eaters would be watching the house waiting to catch Harry the moment he lost the protection of the place he called home, so there was a chance that few Death Eaters were actually behind the gates, though a slim chance. But at least if someone came to drag her through the gates, she would make it into the manor. Resolved, Hermione responded to the iron face with the truth. "I'm looking for my father."

She waited as the iron twisted back into straight rods, preparing for the worst, until, finally, the gates swung open. Wearily, she stepped through the gates of her own volition and quickly strode down the drive. _Either no one is home_, she thought, _which is possible, but unlikely, or they don't care...which is more than unlikely_.

The floating cap snaked down a thin pebbled path that branched off from the drive, led through the garden, and came to a stop before a gardener's door. With a quiet _Alohomora_ Hermione opened the door and let the cap inside, following quickly after.

The cap floated down the corridor and took a left, a right, and a left, apparently leading toward the back of the mansion, then down a dark passageway before turning abruptly and flying down a steep flight of stairs.

"_Lumos_," Hermione whispered as she descended the steps to where the cap waited before a heavy cellar door. She quickly unlocked it and, with a great shove, the door swung wide. The light of her wand flickered off spots where water had gathered in the indents in the stone and the dips of the mortar. Hermione raised her wand over her head to reveal more of the room and that's when she saw them.

The cellar contained no more than two dozen people, men, women, boys, and girls, chained to the wall, their hands and feet bound. Muggles, from the looks of their clothing, all cowering at the sight of her wand.

"Hermione?" A soft, familiar voice called from the corner.

"Dad!" Hermione sprinted to one of the men in chains and pulled him into a quick embrace.

"How did you find me?"

"Your cap," Hermione explained. "You must have dropped it. I found it a few hundred meters from our campsite and charmed it to lead me to you. _Nox_." Hermione relinquished the light of her wand in an attempt to break the bonds restraining her father at his hands and feet.

"You shouldn't have come. You know how dangerous it is!"

Another quick _Alohomora_ and the bond fell from his left hand. These were Muggles after all, intricate locking spells would be unnecessary and "above" them.

"I had to find you. How would Mum be able to deal in this world without you?" Hermione dropped the linked chain to the floor and ran her eyes over the room again, torn between running with her father now and freeing the rest of the helpless Muggles, knowing if she stayed her father wouldn't leave her side.

"_Alohomora. _Listen, Dad," Hermione disengaged the chain from his right hand. "You need to get back to Mum now. The two of you need to get out of the country as soon as possible. With or without me. Understand?"

"Wha- No. We're not going anywhere without you! I only just got you back!"

Hermione unlocked the metal surrounding her father's left foot and brought her eyes up to meet his, needing him to understand.

"I know, but if-"

"Well, well, well," said a drawling voice, filling the dank room. The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck raised as she bristled in recognition and all hope of an easy escape vanished. Granted, she could have done much worse by ways of getting caught, Lucius or Bellatrix, but a small part of her had believed there was an opportunity to get in and out of the manor unseen. "If it isn't the little Mudblood come to rescue Daddy."

"Malfoy," Hermione replied and she slowly and cautiously rose to meet his gaze. If it were not for his egocentric desire for his enemies to know _he_ was the one throwing the curse, she was sure she would have been sprawling on the floor by now. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway she had left wide open, flanked by the large shadows of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. "Let my father go. You have no reason to keep him here."

"I have every reason to keep him, Granger," Malfoy laughed. "He's a Muggle. And I think you know as well as anyone how the Dark Lord feels about Muggles." He gestured toward the rest of his captives. The Muggles shrunk back against the wall, making themselves as small as possible, soft whimpers escaping a few. Not one stood their ground against their captors. _Broken_, Hermione thought, _all of them_. She wondered how long they had been here, what tortures they had endured. She had decided long ago that she would not let her father endure a moment of this life that brought such fear, that she would do whatever it took to ensure he didn't.

With this thought, Hermione turned back to Malfoy, and stood as straight and as tall as she could will herself. "Take me instead."

"Hermione, no!"

"What?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"He's just another Muggle, but if you had a Mudblood like me..." A hint of a gleam threatened within Malfoy's eye. "I'm worth more to you than he is. Take me instead."

"This entire room is anti-Apparition. You think I don't have you already?"

"No," Hermione said with the air of someone who knew more than anyone else in the room, an air that surrounded her quite often, an air she decided she could use to her advantage. "It's clear that only the three of you here. If it weren't, you wouldn't be the ones dealing with this...situation. You know I am more than capable of thinking my way in and out of this situation. And you know, from experience I might add, of my incredible ability to outwit the three of you." Malfoy's smirk faltered ever so slightly that if she had not been hoping for it she might not have seen it. Or was it simply hope that made her see what she wanted to. He needed another push. "And I know that there is a chance that someone might be hurt by the choices we make today. So what I'm offering you is a sure thing." At that a blonde eyebrow cocked.

"Hermione, I won't let you do thi-"

"_Silencio_," Malfoy hissed, flicking his wand at her father, then pointed an amused gaze at Hermione. "If I agree to let him go, you'll surrender? Hand over your wand and stay here? As my prisoner?"

"As long as you _vow_ to make sure he, and my mother," she added quickly, "are safe, then, yes."

Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed and dug into her own, calculating. Then, finally, they disengaged with a small nod, so small she almost missed it.

"Kneel," he said as he bent his own knees and raised his right arm to her. Metal rattle behind her, but she ignored her fathers protests as she grasped the forearm with her right hand as she knelt.

"Goyle," Malfoy snapped and the boy drew out his wand, placing the tip to their clasped hands.

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing she had to get the wording exactly right or all of this would have been for nothing.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy," she said, her voice ringing and her eyes locked with his in determination. "Vow to return my father to my mother and ensure their safe departure from the country?"

"I do."

A thin stream of flame left the tip of Goyle's wand and snaked its way around the joined hands.

"Will you ensure that no knowledge of their relation to me will leak that they might be hunted down and found and used against me and, therefore, against Harry Potter?"

"I will," Malfoy agreed and a second stream of red issued from the wand. As the fire's light began to fade, Hermione started to release Malfoy's arm, but he squeezed hers and her eyes darted to meet his again. "And do you, Hermione Granger, vow to remain at the manor until the day comes that I release you?"

Hermione took a deep breath as her eyes met stormy swirls and a dark smirk.

"I do." And a third flame licked and weaved around their hands.

When the light of the final flame died they released their grip on one another and returned to their feet.

"Hand over your wand."

"Wait."

"Granger-"

"I need to place a memory altering charm on him first."

"Memory altering?"

"I've already performed it on my mother. Please, it is the only way that they can really get away from all of this. They cannot remember me, otherwise, they would never leave without me."

"Fine," Malfoy growled, then turned to his minions. "If any other spell comes out of her mouth you _Crucio_ the man, understand?"

Crabbe and Goyle cackled their response.

Hermione took a deep look at her father, memorizing his features, hoping that soon she would see him again with more than her mind's eye.

"Well, hurry up!" Malfoy snapped. "Do it now or I will. And I won't guarantee not to wipe his mind completely."

"Give me a moment, please!"

"You have till the count of three."

"Dad, I'm so sorry! I don't have time to-

"One."

"-you to know that I love you-

"Two."

"-will reverse it when I can-"

"Thr-"

Hermione yelled the incantation and a stream of light shot from the tip of her wand into her father's forehead. He would not remember the daughter his wife had given him. He would only remember his wife. He would not remember the last 24 hours since he'd wandered away from the campsite. He would only remember being lost in the woods. He would not feel the desire he'd always known for the lands and towns and lifestyles of Britain. He would only have an uncontrollable desire to pack up his life and leave.

"He should not remember the next hour, so you have that long to get him back into the Forest of Dean," Hermione told Malfoy as she took one last look at the man who raised her before forever letting him go. Again.

"_Imperio_," Draco whispered, pointing his wand first at Goyle, then Crabbe. "Return him to his wife. She should be near where you found him in Dean. Do it quickly and quietly and help them to their home. Ensure that no one sees you. Contact me when they are packed. Go. Now."

Crabbe released her father, now Wendell Wilkins, from the clasp still binding his right leg and pulled him through the cellar toward the stairs, shadowed closely by Goyle. Hermione watched as man and boys ascended the steps and were gone within seconds. She slunk to the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and buried her head in her jeans.

"You didn't let me say goodbye," she murmured.

"What?"

"I'll never see him again and I didn't get to say goodbye."

"I gave you a moment," Malfoy said, dissatisfaction evident as if the time he had given to her was infinite. "Three actually."

"Oh, yes," Hermione spat back, her head shooting up and her burning eyes searing into his. She may belong to him now, but she refused to be broken by him. "A three second count down is what everyone dreams of for a final farewell. Thank you very much."

Their hot stare held for one long moment before Malfoy broke it and strode toward the door.

"I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" Hermione asked, taken aback. "But I thought-"

"You want to stay in the cellar?" Malfoy's voice rang with annoyance as he turned at the doorway to face her.

"No."

"Then follow me."


	2. Chapter 2: Build Higher Walls Around Me

AN: I, obviously, do not own Harry Potter, nor it's characters or world.  
Sorry it took so long to post another chapter. I had most of this one completed last year and then life got in the way. I'll try not to take another year and a half for the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 2: Build Higher Walls Around Me

Malfoy walked up the steps without looking back to see if Hermione was behind him. When he reach the top step, he turned right down the corridor, out of sight, calling, "Shut the door behind you."

After a great pull on the circular, iron handle, the door swung closed and the latch clicked. With a sigh, Hermione began to ascend the stairs and, wearily, followed her captor into the heart of the manor.

Hermione rounded the corner of the corridor just in time to see Malfoy disappearing around the next corner. "Keep up, Granger," he called. "I haven't got all day." Reluctantly, she did as she was bid.

"There are three wings in the manor, the North Wing, the East Wing, and the West Wing. Your room will be located in the North Wing," Malfoy said as they passed windows looking out over the same garden Hermione had walked through moments before. "The North Wing is old, it has not been updated in years. My parents haven't had the time, nor the need, what with the multitude of rooms we have in our other wings, so they've blocked the whole wing off. Anyone who does not keep permanent residence and knowledge of how to enter it will not be able to see it. My father and mother prefer to ignore and cover up problems until a time comes that they can solve them. They almost never enter the North Wing, so it is all but abandoned. My family's rooms are in the East Wing, where we spend most of our time when at home. That said, if you leave the North Wing, you had better ensure that no one sees you. Do not leave often or without escort. You can go anywhere in the manor, as long as you are not seen." Suddenly, Malfoy stopped and turned around so abruptly Hermione nearly crashed into his chest. "_Except_ the West Wing. Do you understand?"

"What's in the West Wing?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"It's forbidden!" And Malfoy whipped back around and strode away from her.

Hermione caught up to him in time to emerge into the great foyer of the manor. There were large oak doors, intricately detailed chandeliers lining the high ceiling, and two mirroring staircases at the far end of the foyer. Each grand staircase led to a separate balcony, with portraits lining the walls on either side of an entrance. Malfoy led Hermione away from the doors and between the staircases.

"That is the entrance to the East Wing," Malfoy said, gesturing to the staircase on their right. "That is the entrance to the West Wing." He gestured to the left.

"And this is the entrance to the North Wing," Malfoy had come to a stop in front of the wall at the end of the foyer.

As he spoke, the wall started to ripple like rain on a lake, then began to dissolve and in its place appeared a red, velvet curtain that draped onto the floor from the ceiling, with more red curtaining framing the vertical drapes. It reminded Hermione of the theatre productions she used to attend with her parents in her childhood. Back when she thought magic was nothing more than fairytale.

"The curtain will not move until you say the password. There is also a disillusionment charm upon it to keep people from noticing it if they don't already know it's there. I assume you first saw the wall?" Hermione nodded. "It is very powerful magic," he added haughtily.

Hermione reached out to feel the curtains. They were as soft as velvet should be, but they didn't not flow as velvet should. If fact they didn't seem to move at all at her touch. The curtain felt pliable enough beneath her hand, and yet not enough to move or shift. It was as if a permanent sticking charm held it in place in mid air.

"Pavo Cristatus," Malfoy said.

"The scientific name for peacock," Hermione mused. "That's the password?"

As if in response, the red curtain began to rise and disappear into the ceiling leaving a large wing entrance in its place.

Straight ahead of them, separated by a great expanse of beautiful wooden floors, stood a pair of curved staircases that joined in entrance to the floor above. That entrance connected to a walkway, lined with iron balusters, that wrapped, rectangularly, around the area through which Hermione and Draco were walking. Hermione could imagine leaning over the balusters to view the ground floor below, which appeared to be the center of the North Wing.

"When my parents were first married, my grandparents still lived here, in the North Wing and my father and mother moved into the East Wing to they made it their own."

There were random items scattered along the open area of the ground floor that seemed to be forgotten. White sheets draped over objects that looked like love seats and ottomans and end tables. There was an umbrella stand that held a single umbrella, its handle broken. The stand stood between an empty hat rack and an coat rack that held a tattered shall.

As they made their way to the staircases, they passed a pair of oak doors that stood slightly ajar, through which Hermione caught a glimpse of a ballroom with a cloth-draped grand piano in the corner.

"Do you never use the ballroom?" Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Not this one," and at her look of surprise, he smirked. "We don't need to. There is, of course, a ballroom in every wing."

Malfoy led Hermione up a staircase, around the walkway, down the furthest corridor, passing door after door, until finally coming to a stop before the final door.

"This is the smallest room in the wing, a guest bedroom for the lesser guest."

He opened the door and Hermione looked around as she entered a room almost twice the size of the one she had grown up in. A magnificent bed stood in the center of the room, beneath it, an ornate rug. There were draped windows on either side of the bed. One side of the room had a wall of bookshelves, the other had a bathroom and a closet.

"Potts!" Malfoy called and, with a loud crack, a small house-elf appeared before them holding a large teapot. With a high squeak and another loud crack she disappeared and at a third loud crack she reappeared teapot-less.

"Yes, Master?" the little elf said in a high pitched voice. She was not unlike Dobby, Hermione thought, with his huge tennis ball eyes, though her eyes were slightly smaller and a rich blue. She wore a purple, frilly dish cloth on her head and another larger one around her waist like an apron with pink and blue polka dots to ornate the purple.

"Potts," Malfoy said with a hint of irritation at having to wait. "This is Hermione Granger. You are to ensure that this room is a suitable dwelling place, even for a Mudblood. While she is here you are to take care of her needs. Food, clothing, tidying up, et cetera. And you will serve her as you would a highly favored guest, as long as her requests do not conflict with any demands I have given you. For instance, you will in no way help her to contact anyone."

He began to make his way toward the door.

"One more thing," Malfoy added, turning back to the two of them and looking intently at Potts. "You are forbidden to speak of her presence here to anyone." Hermione stared at Malfoy in surprise. "Not to Master Lucious, nor Mistress Narcissa, nor Mistress Bellatrix, nor any guests. You are to speak of her to no one except me. Is that understood?"

The little elf nodded vigorously. "Yes, Master."

"Good. You may make use of the other house-elves, if you need too, but their absences must go unnoticed. And they must speak to me before they enter this wing."

"Malfoy," Hermione called as his hand grasped the doorknob, and with a soft voice she asked, "Why don't you want anyone to know that I'm here?"

His gray eyes found hers and held them for a moment, before smirking. "I don't like to share my toys." And with that he pulled the door open and departed through it, leaving Hermione to attempt to shake of the sense of dread she felt at his words.

"Potts will make this room clean in no time, Miss!" the little elf said as soon as her master was out of sight and she immediately went to work on the room. Potts snapped in cleaners and rags and dusters and fresh bed clothes and clean towels.

Hermione helped where she could, though she was met with enmity at every step.

"Miss does not need to bother herself with that," Potts said, taking the broom from Hermione who had picked it up to begin sweeping. "House work is for House-elves, not witches." And "Potts can do that, Miss. Potts is a very good duster. Very good indeed," when Hermione attempted to rid the highest shelf on an empty bookcase of a fine layer of powder. So Hermione decided to take a different approach.

"Please, Potts, would you let me do it. I want to do it. It would make me very happy."

"If it would make Miss Hermione happy, then Miss can dust the bookcase," the little elf squeaked, with a hint of reluctance, and she returned the feather duster to Hermione's hand. And as the night wore on, Hermione swindled her way into changing the bedclothes, dusting the light fixtures, and scrubbing the bathtub.

Having removed all remnants of soap scum from the inside of the bathtub to sparkling perfection, she proceeded to shine the outer rim down to the claw/taloned legs. As her eyes rested on the legs her mind wandered back to Grimald Place and the horrocious decorating decisions of Mrs. Black, and, not for the first time, Hermione was reminded that she was trapped in the home of Mudblood hating Pure-bloods.

"Miss is tired," the little elf exclaimed when she saw Hermione's head resting against the copper basin and she took the cloth from Hermione's hand.

"No," Hermione began to protest, but did not resist as the little elf began to push her to her feet.

"Must sleep, Miss," Potts insisted as she shoved Hermione out of the bathroom. A cream nightgown was lying on the bed and Potts helped Hermione step out of her jeans and t-shirt and pull the nightgown over her head. Potts then pulled back the bedclothes and Hermione climbed into the giant bed.

"Good night, Miss Hermione," Potts said, smiling up at Hermione.

"Good night, Potts," Hermione replied. "And thank you for helping me with my room."

When the little elf cracked out of existence, Hermione fell back onto the pillows, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Thankful that the physical labor had tired her enough that her mind's racing had no chance of keeping her awake tonight, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning Hermione was awoken by a sharp rap on the door and a growled, "Granger, open the door."

Rain tapped lightly against the windows as Hermione stretched and opened her eyes. Begrudgingly, she threw back the duvet and rolled out of bed. A thin, lavender robe laid upon a chair by the foot of the bed, where Potts had left it for her. Hermione wrapped it around herself as she made her way toward the door.

"Grang-" Malfoy began, cutting himself off as Hermione opened the door. "Finally."

Malfoy was wearing a tailored black suit, a white dress shirt, and an emerald green tie. His platinum hair and his shiny black wingtips were sprinkled with droplets of water, though his clothes were completely dry, as if he had gone out into the rain with nothing but a rain coat. Hermione, struck by Draco Malfoy in Muggle dress clothes, thought the look suited his tall and slender frame quite nicely. But his face held dark circles under his eyes.

"What are you staring at?" Draco snapped.

"Wha- Nothing, you just woke me up," Hermione said, recomposing herself. "What do you want?"

"I came to inform you that your parents have been taken care of. I've sent them to that Muggle transport place they call Heathrow with more than enough Muggle money to get settled in any other country. Crabbe and Goyle have no recollection of the events that transpired last night. And the Muggles who were held in the dungeon won't breathe a word either."

She nodded in understanding.

Then she registered something. "W_ere_ held? What do you mean by _were_? Where are they now?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Malfoy, tell me what happened to them."

"It doesn't matter."

"On the contrary, it seems it does, tell me."

"No."

"Malfoy."

"Granger, leave it."

"No, Malfoy! Where-"

"FINE! THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

Hermione stared at Malfoy. "No, they aren't."

"Yes. They. Are."

"Wha-why? How?"

"Does it matter?" Malfoy asked, his tone almost bored.

"Of course it matters," Hermione breathed, her heart breaking. "Please. Tell me what happened. It's not as if I can leave and tell anyone. At least not without breaking the vow and dying, anyway."

Draco gazed at Hermione for a long time before finally conceding. "The Dark Lord didn't get what he wanted last night. When he returned here he went down to the cellar where he'd been keeping Olivander for _questioning_. But Olivander had been moved to the cupboards on the first floor, so instead, the Dark Lord found the room filled with filthy Muggles. Apparently Olivander had given some bad information regarding how last night's events should have played out. As punishment, he was returned to the cellar to watch the Muggles die in front of him, one by one."

Hermione stared at him.

"Where are they now?" she asked. "The-their bodies, I mean."

"Spread across the country, I'd imagine. Left for the Muggle authorities to find."

Then his grey eyes connected with hers as he said, "You should be thanking me."

"Why?"

"If I hadn't moved you to this room you would be dead too."

"If you hadn't kidnapped my father I would never have been here."

"I didn't kidnap your father, Goyle did. And besides, your idiot father should not have been wandering the woods alone in the middle of a wizard war."

"Oh right, and because he was careless he deserves to be captured like an animal, tortured, and murdered?"

"I didn't say that. And have you already forgotten that I let him go. I saved him!"

"And letting my father go somehow absolves you of the others? If you think that what you've done is right..."

"Then what, Granger!?" The two glared at each other. "Well?"

"_Well_," she responded "Then you're a fool, Malfoy!"

"_I'm_ a fool? You must know he is going to lose, your precious Potter. Why are you fighting on his side?"

"Harry has morality and truth and love on his side. Voldemort has nothing but hatred and his love of power."

"You can't have morality in war. This is why he will lose. And all of his followers will die."

"Some things are just worth dying for. Though I suppose that's something you Slytherins will never understand."

Malfoy continued to look down at her with a face of arrogance and incredulity. After a moment he shook his head and said, "Tonight the manor will be empty. Potts will be taking care of the dining room on the ground floor during the day and this evening you will join me for dinner."

Hermione's face was a reflection of disgust.

"That is not a request."


End file.
